


Hotel California

by Aishuu



Series: Dross [4]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Love/Hate, M/M, Sex With an Ex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka and Fuji may have checked out of their relationship, but they can never leave their feelings behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel California

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to Dross, set near the end and off stage. It's what Tezuka and Fuji were up to.

The night was long past a decent hour when Tezuka finally managed to extract himself from the reunion. He had never thought of himself as a social being, and being forced to play the class president for a group of people he scarcely remembered was very trying. After pulling a woman who he vaguely recalled as having been the class secretary off of himself while making a polite excuse about having a headache, he started for his room. Her perfume was cloying, and even after he was finally out of her clutches, the scent lingered, threatening to make him nauseous. 

He had reserved a suite instead of electing to get a room near the block reunion organizers had reserved. He knew that smaller parties were likely to spring up, and he wanted nothing to do with those partygoers who would be going from room to room, seeking a good time and old friends. He could count on one hand the people in his high school class he wanted to see again: Oishi, Inui, Kawamura. Maybe Kikumaru if he was feeling generous. 

Definitely not Fuji.

Being around the man who had once been his sometime bedmate had brought back too much, and having to put up with Fuji's sweetly venomous words made Tezuka want to make some kind of excuse to leave the reunion early. These people were in his past, and the only one who he maintained touch with was Inui, though it certainly wasn't through any effort on his part. Inui seemed to have become the one tie that bound them all.

It was with a sense of accomplishment that he finally made it to his room and slid his key-card through. He had almost made it through the torturous weekend. Tomorrow would simply be the farewell breakfast, and then he could go on his merry way.

It had been nice to see Oishi again, to realize that his gentle friend really had made something of himself. Kikumaru seemed to be a bit more sedated, but Kawamura was exactly how Tezuka had pictured him. There had been no surprises - not even Fuji's sheer sadism. Apparently in the intervening years had managed to refine Fuji, burning away the gentle exterior to remove the sharp mind that lay beneath. They had all changed, but his impression was that Fuji had been somehow been distilled to his essence.

Tezuka wouldn't admit that he missed that gentleness.

His room was still dark, but his instincts immediately went on alert as he heard someone else breathing across the room. He started to step backward, prepared to call hotel security, but the distinctive voice that drifted out to him from the darkness stopped him.

"Hello, Tezuka."

"Is there some reason for this?" Tezuka asked calmly, debating what to do. 

A soft laugh, then the sound of rustling clothes as Fuji moved, and a light was turned on. It hit Tezuka's eyes just as they were accustoming themselves to the room, and he had to blink as they readjusted.

Fuji was lounging on the couch, his shoes kicked off and his tie undone. He looked elegantly rumpled, like a fashion model posing for some kind of cologne ad about "letting your true self out." Beside him, a half-full glass of what appeared to be whiskey indicated he'd been drinking.

"I wanted to have a little reunion, Tezuka," Fuji laughed, pressing his fingers against his chin. "We haven't really talked in years."

"There's reasons for that," Tezuka replied, but shutting the door behind him. Trying to remove Fuji when Fuji didn't want to be removed would create a scene. It was best just to humor him.

"Perhaps," Fuji admitted. "But reunions are about reliving the good times, and laughing at the bad." A wistful smile crossed his face. "There were good times, weren't there?"

Tezuka couldn't deny it. There had been times when Fuji had been the only person who he could stand to be around, whose presence managed to keep him from giving up his studies in frustration, or having a permanent breach with his family. Fuji had been a good friend, someone whom Tezuka had relied on. "Yes," he said slowly. "But I think the bad has overshadowed them."

"Has it? You make it sound like we had some horrible, nasty break up. We fought for two months after getting on each other's nerves, and I moved out. It wasn't like I threatened to throw your clothes away, or told your family you were sleeping with me. You overreact."

Tezuka wished he knew how to explain why he didn't want to see Fuji. "We've been fighting these last three days. I think it would be obvious we shouldn't spend time around each other. I don't like how you make me act."

"It's because I make you act," said Fuji, and his voice lost all of the sweetness and turned into something which only could be thought of as provocative. "I shake you out of your comfortable world."

"Shook." Tezuka's honesty prevented him from contradicting Fuji entirely, but at least he was able to put it into the past. The arguments, petty as they had been, always had managed to raise his dander, and he would sometimes spend an entire day irritated after a spat over who was at fault for forgetting to turn the lights out the night before.

"I thought I was doing a pretty good job at annoying you this weekend," Fuji said smugly. The smile was back, and Tezuka found himself gritting his teeth. Fuji, of course, noticed it, and the smile spread like a malignant cancer, widening until his eyes slid shut and Tezuka's fists clenched in order to keep from committing homicide. "See?"

"Why do you bother?"

"Because it amuses me."

A deep breath, than another. Tezuka concentrated on his breathing to keep from completely losing his composure. "It amuses you to make people dislike you?"

"At least they feel something for me. The worst thing in the world is indifference." Another undeniable truth, the kind that Fuji was so good at pointing out. Tezuka shifted a bit on his feet, not out of discomfort but rather fatigue. He didn't know what to do, a rare occurrence. Fuji shifted over, swinging his legs down to make room on the couch. "How about you sit down?" He patted the seat invitingly.

It was time to choose. Tezuka knew exactly what would happen if he took the offer - and while it would probably be fun for a while, he recognized, logically, that it would be a mistake.

He sat down anyway.

Fuji smiled, leaned over, and stroked Tezuka's leg, starting at the knee and trailing his fingers up until they rested a tantalizing three inches away from Tezuka's zipper. Tezuka stared at him for a long moment before placing his own hand on Fuji's and sliding their commingled touch over as he placed his other hand on Fuji's face, drawing him in for a kiss.

Fuji's tongue met his own, licking lightly around the inside of Tezuka's mouth before his teeth nipped playfully at Tezuka's lower lip, withdrawing almost demurely a second later. Fuji's hand slid from under Tezuka's, creeping up to undo the button on top of the slacks, the light touch sending blood racing to Tezuka's groin. Tezuka tried not to groan as Fuji achieved his objective, the hand sliding inside the waistband and finding a half-swollen erection. Their eyes met squarely as Fuji began to pump Tezuka. 

He wasn't gentle, and the rough passion between them made Tezuka impatient. His hands abandoned their positions to attack Fuji's shirt, longing to find the warm flesh under it. One button, two buttons, three... Tezuka paused as Fuji squeezed him particularly tightly, then his eyes narrowed and he pushed Fuji's hand away.

"Not so fast," he demanded.

"We've always done it fast," Fuji said, his voice distant to Tezuka's lust ridden thoughts. "Wham, bam, thank you, sir..." 

"Slow down," Tezuka ordered. He freed Fuji from the shirt, tossing it away like a used tissue. 

"Yes, sir," Fuji said in a meek voice, putting his hands over his head. "I'll just lay right here, and you can do what you want..."

Tezuka missed the feeling of Fuji's hands on him, but he refused to give the other man the satisfaction of begging for his touch. Instead he began to stroke Fuji's chest, trailing his mouth after his hands. Fuji's skin was as smooth as Tezuka remembered, and the way he groaned when Tezuka's fingers teased his nipples made Tezuka aware that he was still fully clothed.

Fuji was quiet except for the occasional gasp, but Tezuka was well-aware of those sharp eyes watching his every movement. He knew, even after all these months apart, how to make Fuji's breath quicken by nipping at the base of his throat; he knew exactly what Fuji wanted, and it was without any self-consciousness that Tezuka slid the zipper of Fuji's slacks down. 

He wasn't wearing an underwear, something Tezuka knew he did when he was in a hurry. Fuji was fully-erect, and Tezuka grabbed him a bit harder than he should have. A hiss slipped from Fuji's lips and he clenched the armrest behind him, but made no movement to encourage his lover.

It wasn't like this with anyone else, Tezuka thought as he lowered his mouth to take Fuji's erection. He had the satisfaction of watching Fuji squirm as he traced the swollen tip teasingly, before gently taking it in. The taste was something he'd never been able to describe, something slightly salty but with a strange bittersweet flavor he'd never completely been able to forget. 

Fuji's fingers were tugging on his hair now, urging him to go faster, slower... to just do something. Fuji tended toward patience, but when he got going... 

Tezuka looked up through his glasses, deliberately pulling his mouth away, earning an annoyed sigh. His hands went to Fuji's pants, feeling in the front pocket. Fuji's eyes glittered darkly as Tezuka pulled out the tube of lube he'd expected to find.

There was no words as he popped the tube open, but Fuji was quick enough to snag it away before he could make any move. Fuji wiggled a bit, back and forth as he got rid of his pants entirely before yanking Tezuka up by the collar, placing his head at his throat.

It was the same, like nothing had changed. Fuji spread the clear gel on his fingers and Tezuka waited while Fuji prepared himself. Their eyes were locked, and Tezuka wondered for a brief second if Fuji was trying to tell him something. The thought vanished as Fuji pushed Tezuka's pants away, staining them slightly with the oily fluid. There was the sound of the tube squirting, and then Tezuka felt slippery fingers cover his erection.

It was like drowning, a feeling of desperation for oxygen as his head became lighter. Fuji shifted again, and then Tezuka found himself probing Fuji's opening with his cock. Nails dug into his shirt-clad back, and he had to remember to breathe... but all he could do was thrust forward, again and again, losing himself in the warmth and familiarity of Fuji's body.

It was over too soon, yet as Tezuka fell forward he felt Fuji's hands catch him. The sound of their breathing filled the room, and Tezuka's vision blurred. Gentle hands clutched him as they rolled over in unison onto their sides, the back of the too-small couch pressing into Tezuka's still clothed body.

He stared into Fuji's face, which wore a strange expression that might had been bitterness. Then Fuji smiled, and pressed a kiss onto Tezuka's cheek.

The kiss made something inside Tezuka break. It was so gentle, so caring, that he wondered for a second if Fuji had changed. They had never been affectionate after sex, never demonstrated to each of the caring of lovers. Startled by the sudden tenderness, Tezuka went rigid.

The smile that lit Fuji's face was self-mocking. "I probably should leave," he said softly. "Wouldn't do for someone to spot me coming out of your room in the morning. Imagine the gossip."

It was Tezuka's chance to ask him to stay, and he knew that was what Fuji wanted. But as always, he couldn't say it. He never could say the right thing.

"You should go," Tezuka agreed softly.

Fuji sighed and rose, grabbing his pants and getting dressed quickly. Tezuka straightened his own clothes out of some weird form of modesty, watching how the other moved gracefully around the room. All of Fuji's movements were economical, and it took only a few minutes before Fuji was presentable, if a person ignored his high coloring.

There was an awkward silence, one which reminded Tezuka of all the times they had fought while getting nowhere. This time Fuji merely shook his head slightly, almost amused. "You never change," Fuji said.

"That's bad?" Tezuka had always been proud of who he was and what he stood for, but sometimes Fuji made him wonder if he was missing something.

"No. It simply is," said Fuji, turning toward the door and walking out.


End file.
